Chapter 9: Master (Part 1)

Dark night, strong winds. Inside a cave deep in the mountains, firelight flickered as whispered conversation could faintly be heard.

“Divine Lord, there were too many eyes and ears at Yuheng Sect before. Now that it’s just you and me, we can finally talk properly.” He Tingtong poked at the fire, staring at the person across from him, dark pupils gleaming with firelight, startlingly bright.

Fu Fengyan felt intoxicated under this gaze, tingling from tailbone to heart, as if floating in the heavens, only hoping this gaze would linger on him a bit longer.

“What do you want to talk about?” His heartbeat grew faster and heavier. He turned his head away, half-lowering his eyelids. “Do you think… I’m not bad?”

After He Tingtong descended the mountain, they left Yuheng Sect’s territory at top speed. Now they’d reached the border of Jubei Province, leaving the harsh winds and snow of Hanshan Realm behind. Cross one more mountain and they’d enter Tuomi Province.

During this journey, due to his injuries, He Tingtong’s body was weak and Fu Fengyan had carried him on his back the entire way. The two braved wind and dew, traveling and sleeping together. The nights were extremely cold, so they often huddled together in an embrace for warmth.

Holding his beloved in his arms at night, Fu Fengyan finally understood what “restless heart,” “chaotic thoughts,” and “wild with joy” meant.

But these days didn’t last long. He Tingtong’s spirit was truly too good—after only two or three days of weakness, he no longer relied on him.

“Divine Lord, you’re very good.” He Tingtong praised generously. Seeing Fu Fengyan’s eyes light up like little stars, he too curved his lips in a smile. “But I still need to discuss some serious business with you.”

Serious business.

Fu Fengyan’s eyes dimmed slightly. “What serious business?”

He Tingtong sat up straight, brows furrowed tightly. “Divine Lord, have you calculated exactly how many times we’ve restarted?”

Back at the cliff bottom, He Tingtong had wanted to ask these things, but unfortunately he was severely injured then, and was startled by Fu Fengyan’s sudden marriage proposal, directly fainting. Later when they returned to Yuheng Sect, this matter of restarting eighteen times could be discussed privately, but with many people and eyes at Yuheng, it wasn’t suitable to say much. Now finally far from the sect, with no one around for miles, and one step forward was Tuomi Province—the most prosperous place in the north, with countless spirit boats and jade ships, merchant fleets connecting north and south, among the world’s nine provinces one could go anywhere conveniently.

Talk it all out tonight. If they weren’t of the same mind, they could part ways here.

“I’ve restarted eighteen times.” He Tingtong raised his hand, reached into the small pouch at his waist, and pulled out a small notebook from his storage bag. He held his brush, looking at Fu Fengyan and continuing: “Divine Lord, do you remember how many times you’ve restarted?”

“Same as you—eighteen times.” Fu Fengyan’s gaze fell on the small notebook, seeing it densely covered with tiny writing. The first page read “Yuheng,” recording the two names Yun Zhi and Shen Xiyuan, with eighteen sequence numbers below, several lines ending with the sharp character for “kill.” After number nineteen, however, was written “undecided.”

He Tingtong was still taking notes, head down without looking up. “So there’s some special connection between us, right?”

“Mm.” Fu Fengyan nodded.

“Secret technique? Or forbidden law?” He Tingtong raised his head, staring at him blankly. “I don’t remember clearly what happened after I fell off the cliff. Do you remember, Divine Lord?”

“I was passing through the mountains when I encountered an assassination.” Fu Fengyan sat properly, fingers lightly grasping the corner of his clothes, explaining briefly: “There’s a demon-sealing formation in Hanshan Realm that was deliberately damaged, causing me to encounter a demon tide.”

Though it should have been an extremely dangerous situation, Fu Fengyan’s eyes showed not the slightest ripple. “After dealing with them, I accidentally got separated from my attendants.”

“I didn’t know the way. Coming down from the mountain, I reached a canyon where you happened to fall from the sky, landing right at my feet.” Fu Fengyan’s voice was extremely soft, like a breeze. “Then you grabbed the corner of my clothes.”

He Tingtong looked down at his own hand.

“You said you didn’t want to die, wanted to live. But I’d never studied medical arts nor knew resurrection secret techniques. I only had a gift my mother gave me before she died, called the Lifeline Thread.”

He Tingtong’s eyebrow twitched as he noted down this key term.

“Souls linked, fates connected. You didn’t want to die, so I used it on you. You survived, and our life threads were twisted together.” Fu Fengyan hugged his knees. “Just like that… later when the world ended again and again, I was always powerless to stop it, so I could only drag you to restart time after time.”

Fu Fengyan’s voice grew smaller and smaller. He buried his head, apologizing softly: “I’m sorry.”

“This is a life-saving grace—I should be grateful to you. No need to apologize.” He Tingtong scribbled away, head down, not looking up. After a moment he paused his brush and laughed. “Besides, I truly did want to live.”

“Only now I don’t want to die randomly anymore.”

He Tingtong felt he needed to fully discuss life planning with Fu Fengyan. He leaned forward, looking at him eagerly. “Divine Lord, want to exchange some information?”

Fu Fengyan’s pupils contracted, then he said softly: “I don’t know… much.”

He Tingtong gripped his brush, thinking of some unlucky matters, grinding his teeth and sneering as he pushed out each word: “That’s fine. I know a lot.”

Fu Fengyan: “?”

“Restarting world lines should require extremely massive spiritual power. I don’t know how you managed it, Divine Lord, but it must not be easy.” He Tingtong stared at him, the pale figure reflected in his dark pupils. Then he reached out, firmly grasping Fu Fengyan’s hand. “Meeting is fate. I can tell at a glance you’re a very capable, very responsible, very righteous person.”

Fu Fengyan was praised again. That dizzy feeling like soaking in hot water returned. He sat up ramrod straight, turning his head, stammering: “Is… is that so?”

He Tingtong held him, fingers slightly cooler against his skin, yet making him feel even hotter. The person before him had bright eyes, almost pressing against his face. “So let’s save the common people together!”

Fu Fengyan: “…”

Many things flashed through his mind at once—family rules, family teachings, white mist, the blank expanse of Spirit Lake, and that phrase he’d heard since childhood: “You were born to save the common people.”

But what were the common people… and what was he?

The thing he was supposed to save—he’d never seen it.

Before passing Falling Snow Cliff, apart from clan members, the only one he’d seen was this youth before him.

Black hair, bright eyes, rosy and slightly upturned corners of the mouth, pressed before his eyes like an eager, joyful little bird flapping its wings before him, every feather tickling at his heart, itchy yet delightful.

He Tingtong’s invitation—naturally he couldn’t refuse.

“Alright.” Fu Fengyan was dazed and confused. He nodded. “Then… together.”

He Tingtong: “May I ask what realm the Divine Lord’s cultivation is at?”

Fu Fengyan floated dreamily: “Don’t know.”

He Tingtong asked again: “Below the twelfth realm, can you fight?”

“What needs to be done?” Fu Fengyan tilted his head, his gaze suddenly much clearer. “Do I need to kill people?”

“No.” He Tingtong’s fingers were ice cold. He pinched Fu Fengyan’s fingertips, voice growing heavy. “We need to reach a place before New Year’s Eve and save someone.”

“Who?”

---

“Qin Tan, you son of a bitch! Finally can’t escape!”

The eighth year of Linde, the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth month, in Dongxu Realm, on Mirror Lake, dozens of people joined forces to surround and kill.

Wind bent the reeds low, reed flowers drifting, fluff rolling onto blade edges, easily torn to shreds, scattering far and wide like a snowstorm across heaven and earth.

The person trapped by the crowd at the lake’s center had a tall, slender figure in pure white robes, hair bound high. He had extremely sharp eyes and brows. As he surveyed his surroundings, slightly raising his head, his pitch-black pupils held not a trace of emotion—proud and cold, like an unsheathed sword with exposed edge.

A month ago Dongxu Realm opened. A heaven-grade spirit pill appeared in the secret realm, drawing countless people to compete for it.

This pill was the Heart-Cleansing Pill—dispelling inner demons, clarifying the mind, removing karmic ties, washing away killing sins. Originally targeted by the head of the evil sect Wuqi Road, unexpectedly Qin Tan appeared midway, fighting from inside the secret realm all the way outside, forcibly snatching the item.

Qin Tan, chief disciple of Shangxuan Realm Sword Sect in Central Province. Among the world’s five great sects, Sword Sect ranked first. Among sword cultivators under a hundred years old, Qin Tan was honored as number one. Young yet already breaking through the tenth realm—a heaven-sent talent, only his personality was perverse, arrogant and untamed, ignorant of human feelings, despised by all.

Fortunately he was solitary with no friends. When descending the mountain to train this time, he was also alone.

“Hand over the Heart-Cleansing Pill now and we can spare your life!” The leader blocking his path was entirely shrouded in black robes, voice hoarse. Their sect master’s breakthrough was imminent, trapped by inner demons. This Heart-Cleansing Pill had great use—it absolutely couldn’t be lost.

To breach the secret realm, they’d dispatched two eleventh-realm experts on this journey to ensure absolute safety. Though there were mishaps in between, fortunately with their large numbers, they’d still managed to trap Qin Tan.

Dongxu Realm was far in Jubei Province, thousands of li from Central Province. Even if they sent word to Sword Sect for rescue now, it would be too late. Even if sword cultivators excelled at cross-realm single combat, one against ten—two fists couldn’t defeat many hands.

This pill—they must obtain it!

Still putting on such airs while trapped—truly asking for a beating.

Thinking of the trouble Qin Tan had caused them during this time, the leader wanted nothing more than to dismember him, no longer caring about the consequences of offending Sword Sect. He directly ordered: “Attack!”

“I refuse to believe a tenth-realm sword cultivator can cause any real trouble.”

“Everyone together! Twist off his head and use it as a lantern!”